I Was Here
by Little Lobster
Summary: I was here. I was always here. But you never seemed to care. So I guess I'll be going now . . .
1. Prologue

**I*WAS*HERE

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**

~ I was here. I was _always_ here. But you never seemed to care. So I guess I'll be going now . . . ~

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**CHAPTER ONE**

**Prologue**** ~

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"_An introduction to incredible awesomeness. You are warned."

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_

Hey there! The name's Dan! Dan Cahill. Yeah, Amy and I won the Hunt four years back, and our lives pretty much turned back to normal. Except that we're filthy rich now. But Nellie, Amy, and I still chose to live in our dreary old apartment back in Boston. Fiske, our father, is off to a mission somewhere in Madagascar. Ian and Amy are together now, yada yada, but _hey_! This is about _me_! Forget them!

I asked Natalie out last year. _(Ugh. Don't remind me.) _And she accepted it, so we're dating now. Shocking, I know. But she's been quite a pain in the butt lately. I mean, every time I joke with her, _she doesn't get it_! Talk about being a killjoy. And she expects _me_ to be with her _every single millisecond of the day_. It's like I'm her personal assistant! She makes _me_ carry her books. She makes _me_ wait for her to go out of the classroom so that I could walk her home. Oh, and did I tell you that she goes out of the classroom _2 hours_ after the dismissal time?

Oh, well. At least there's one good thing about staying in that apartment in Boston – my best friend, Reagan. She, like, lives next door with her family. And her room is directly side-by-side with mine – only separated by a thick wall. We even built a window across it so that we could talk whenever we want. Eisenhower wasn't too happy about it, though. So we bribed him with tickets to some international soccer game.

Back to Reagan. What I like about her is that she always seems to understand me. It's weird, actually, and I –

"_DANIEL!_"

Ugh. Here we go again. "_I'm coming, Natalie!_"

Well, that's it for now. And remember that this isn't about Ian and Amy's oh-so-fluffy relationship. _Blech!_ That is gross. Let's not talk about that, because –

_This_ is _my_ story.

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**LITTLE LOBSTER'S PORTION:**

**Missed me? Yep. Probably not. So here I am. With yet another multi-chaptered story (Yay?) So you must ALL be asking one thing: "WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOU?" Well, I have only one answer to that: I. AM. STRESSED. Totally stressed. School stuff and all. So . . . yeah. I know you're mad. I'm really sorry.**

**Now to more serious things – BETA READING. Yeah, yeah. Unforgivable. Well, I've finally come to the conclusion that I cannot do it. At all. So I'm really sorry. **

**To all my beta readees out there, I am to tell you that I cannot cope with all the requests. You're all great writers, and you all have potential. That's why I think you'll be better off with other great authors as beta readers. Not me. Sorry. :'(**

**Okay, that's enough. Too much blabbering.**

**Oops. One more thing. About this story . . . well, it's sort of different thing from what I do. And please take note that this is NOT a songfic. It will just be based from the music video of "You Belong With Me" by Taylor Alison Swift. But with a twist. ;)**

**~~* Little Lobster *~~**


	2. Sweet Dreams

**I*WAS*HERE

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**

~ I was here. I was _always_ here. But you never seemed to care. So I guess I'll be going now . . . ~

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**Previously . . . **

This _is _my _story.

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_

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Sweet Dreams

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"_A cold night spent with you is infinitely better than a warm night spent with myself."

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It was a Tuesday night.

Dan Cahill grudgingly opened the squeaky wooden door to their apartment and trudged like a zombie to the blue fabric sofa in the middle of the living room. He turned on the television set and switched the channel to Nickelodeon. But even the silly laugh of Spongebob could not lighten this day.

"Had a bad day, kiddo?" Nellie appeared from the kitchen, holding a steaming tray of roast chicken, using pale blue oven mitts. Her now long hair, which she dyed a bright shade of pink last summer for some unknown crazy reason, was pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands sticking to her sweaty forehead.

"No duh," Dan replied, rolling his eyes and slouching even further on the sofa.

"Well, I'm sure no problem can't be cured with a taste of my famous rosemary chicken dish," Nellie said enthusiastically, grinning all the way. She set the tray down on the lazy susan in the middle of the antique dining table. "Ta-daa!" She gestured to her culinary masterpiece.

"I think I'll skip dinner today, Nellie," Dan said, turning off the television. He got up and began walking to his room.

"What?" Nellie spluttered, obviously flabbergasted. "But you _never_ skip dinner! Or lunch. Or breakfast. Or midnight snacks. Or after-breakfast snacks. Or –"

"Goodnight, Nellie!" Dan interrupted her, annoyed. He slammed the door to his room, leaving a very puzzled Nellie behind.

Dan ventured into his room and noticed that Reagan had put down the curtains to her room. It probably meant that she was asleep or doing something.

'_Just when I needed someone to talk to,_' Dan thought. He sighed.

Still sighing, he tugged off his Nike rubber shoes and replaced his white tee-shirt and denim pants with a loose gray muscle shirt and khaki shorts. Then he reached for his cell phone and dialed Natalie's number. She answered on the first ring.

But before he could say anything, Natalie said, "Are you planning to apologize to me?"

"No, but – " Dan began.

"Then leave me alone," answered Natalie in a decisive tone. That ended the call.

Dan shut his phone and threw himself onto his bed – the one covered in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles bed sheets. And for the first time in months, he looked around his room.

The small four-cornered room was painted sky blue – the first thing he demanded from his Aunt Beatrice when they first arrived at this apartment, because he was just _not_ sleeping even one night inside a room covered in pink wallpaper with hearts all over it. Nun chucks and samurai swords hung to hooks filled the walls, along with his collection of tombstone rubbings. Under his bed were rows and rows of plastic boxes containing his other collections – baseball cards, casts, Star Wars figures, autographs, comic books, and etcetera. Inside his messy ninja-inspired wardrobe were a few shirts and hoodies and washed-out jeans on hangers. But the thing he liked best about his room were the glow-in-the-dark stars he stuck on his ceiling, spelling "MOM AND DAD" in big, bold letters. He looked at those stars every night for the past eleven years to remind himself that his mother and father were out there somewhere, among the stars.

Then his attention returned to his cell phone. He still had unfinished business. He opened it and quickly formed a text. It read: _'Hey Nat. K I'm srry. Pls forgve me. I'll make t up 2 u.'_ He sent it to Natalie.

A few seconds later, he got a reply from her, saying, _'K fyn. Luv u soooo much! Muah!'_

_'I'm sick of this relationship!'_ Dan thought. He got up and slammed his head unto the wall that separated his room from Reagan's. Reagan must have heard the sound he omitted, for her curtains swept to the side almost immediately. She was wearing her regular attire – a bland tee-shirt paired with pajama pants and slippers. Her blond hair was pulled up in a very messy ponytail.

"What's wrong, Dan? Are you –" Reagan said frantically. Then she saw the familiar look on Dan's face – it was the face she had been seeing on him for the past few weeks. It was like that expression is permanently stuck on Dan's face, one that could never be erased no matter what.

"Natalie," said Reagan. It wasn't exactly a question. It was a statement – a fact, because she knew that she could not be wrong. "What happened this time?"

"Well, I just told her this joke, and –"

"A _joke_?" Reagan shrieked. "Come on, tell me!"

Dan grinned. "Okay, here goes: A boy asked a girl, _'If you don't have feet, would you wear socks?'_ The girl frowned and replied, _'No, of course not.'_ The boy grinned and said, _'Then why are you wearing a bra?'_ The girl became angry and retorted, _'Well, why are _you_ wearing pants, huh?'_" he said.

Reagan laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Soon, she was laughing so hard, she was clutching and stomach and crying. Dan joined in her laughter. Their noise was so loud that it sent Hamilton coming down to check on his sister.

"Hey, Hamilton. How're you?" said Dan.

"Just fine, dude," replied Hamilton. "I'm just checkin' on my sis. She sounded like she was being killed by a monster down here,"

"Am not!" Reagan retorted.

"What were you two doing, anyway?" asked Hamilton.

"Oh, we were just laughing because Dan told me this really AWESOME joke."

"A joke? Cool! I want to hear it! I –"

"Ham!" Eisenhower's loud voice boomed from the floor above. "What is going on down there?"

"Nothing, Dad!" Hamilton shouted back. "Reagan here just knocked over a cabinet!" Hamilton winked at Reagan and Dan. And without another word, he left.

"What's the wink for?" the same words came from two different mouths, carrying different tones – one of annoyance and embarrassment, one of pure confusion.

When they have realized that they will both probably be jinxed because of that, they pushed each other off, through the metal grills. Reagan, being a Holt, didn't seem to be affected at all. Dan, on the other hand, toppled over and fell from his bed. He struggled to get back on top. Reagan sniggered, and Dan heard it. He laughed. Soon, they were in the middle of hysterical laughter again.

This time, Amy burst through Dan's room.

"SHHH!" she said loudly, her index finger touching her lips.

And with that, she left.

Reagan and Dan looked at each other. _'It's not like with Amy,'_ Dan thought. When Amy looks at Dan, she could tell what he was_ thinking_ based on his eyes, But when Reagan looks at him, it's different. It's like she knows what he was _feeling_. And Reagan knew that Dan was happy, being with her now, but, deep inside, he was still sad because of whatever happened with Natalie.

"Back to Natalie," Reagan instructed. "You told her a joke. A very _awesome_ one. What's wrong with that?"

"She didn't get it," Dan replied gloomily. "She thought I was insulting her. Being a sexist or whatever that was."

"Why don't you just break up with her?" Reagan said, irritated. "She obviously doesn't get a _thing_ about you – your humor, your life, _everything_!"

"You know I can't . . ."

"No!" Reagan exclaimed. "I don't know _why_ you can't! I don't know _why_ you won't break up with her! She's not the right one for you! I –"

_'I am,'_ Reagan added in her mind. She would have said it out loud, if only it wasn't so _wrong_.

"Reagan, I can't break up with Natalie, because the Madrigals told me not to," Dan rolled his eyes. "Remember? The Madrigals instructed me to be on good terms with her at all times, or else the Lucians might strike an all-out war against the rest of the Cahills," Dan paused. "And that includes being her girlfriend as long as she wants to do. It's my mission."

"The Madrigals can't do that! They can't control your life! They can't force you with Natalie!" Reagan exclaimed.

"They _can_. I'm one of their leaders, and they expect _me_ to do this in order to _'keep the peace between the branches'_," Dan said, poorly imitating her sister's voice, who was apparently the current Madrigal leader.

"But –"

"Why do you care, anyway?"

"Because I . . . Because I'm your best friend! Duh!"

"Oh, right," Dan smiled.

"Oh, forget Natalie," Reagan decided. "C'mon, let's go to sleep. We have school tomorrow."

"I don't think I will be able to go to sleep tonight," Dan murmured.

"You can do it! You can hold my hand and we'll sleep together."

With much difficulty, Reagan and Dan found a comfortable position where they can meet their hands through the metal grills of their window _and_ sleep at the same time. Even with the complicated situation they were in, both of them slept in tranquility, knowing that their other half, though separated by a barrier, will never let go.

At about 1 am, Reagan woke up. It wasn't like _someone_ woke her up; it was like _she_ woke herself up. Slowly, but surely, she unwound her hand from Dan's, crossing the fingers on her other hand, verily wishing that he would not wake up. Realizing that the systems of her body would not endow her any more sleep, she decided to commit herself into finding something that would keep herself busy until sunrise.

She scanned the small confined space around her. She glanced at the ghastly purple and green striped wallpaper covering the bare cement walls under them, the posters of athletes and framed family pictures adorning the wall, the trophies, medals, and awards for different sports events resting on top of the plastic table in the corner of the room, the red closet with wheels containing her purple tracksuits, the private cabinet beside the door which holds her normal clothes and the ballerina outfits she uses for ballet class. Then her eyes fell on the old iPod on her bedside table, hidden upon a year of dust bunnies. Music wasn't really a Holt's thing, but she'd long since known that she was a lot different from the rest of her family. Besides, she didn't know what else to do.

Closing her curtains, she picked up the iPod, and after a while, managed to turn it on. With her meaty fingers, she turned the tiny wheel in the middle and skimmed through the songs in the playlists, which were downloaded personally by a friend. Finding nothing that stood out to her, she just allowed the device to shuffle the songs and pick one for her.

The first song she came across was "One Less Lonely Girl" by Justin Bieber. On the tiny screen, a picture of the famous singer was displayed. Reagan let out a yelp of disgust.

'_What? The singer of this song is a _DUDE_? He sounds like a girl!'_ said the thoughts in Reagan's mind. _'Blech!'_

As charming as the lyrics of the song may, Reagan wasn't really the mood for this kind of song. After all, _she_ doesn't feel like a "one less lonely girl". She feels more like "a girl doomed to loneliness for the rest of her life".

Irritated, Reagan forwarded to the next song. Which just happens to be "You Belong with Me" by Taylor Swift.

_'Perfect,'_ she thought. The title was very alluring and it heightened her curiosity.

Reagan allowed herself to be one with the beautiful country music flowing in her ears. It touched her heart. She knew that _this_ was the song for her. Little by little, without her noticing, she began dancing. It started out as little movements – snapping of fingers, tapping of feet.

The song ended. The next song was "Tik Tok" by Ke$ha. Reagan's eyebrows burrowed in frustration as she tried to concentrate on understanding the song. She could make out the _lyrics_, but she couldn't put her head on what the lyrics _mean_. _'It's just a bundle of words!' _Reagan thought. And although the beat was kind of nice, it's not really the kind of music Reagan liked.

Reagan sorted through a few more songs, but liking none of them. So she decided to just go back to "You Belong with Me". She liked that song. It just felt so right. It was the first time she'd heard it, yet already she was feeling drawn to its melody and the beautiful flow of words that came with it.

Then she had an awesome idea. She took out the old speaker from her cabinet, plugged it in, and hooked the iPod to it. Being asked to do something like this might have made Eisenhower, Mary-Todd, or Madison scratch their heads in confusion. But Reagan and Hamilton were different. They actually _know_ electronics.

Reagan's thumb lingered over the button, then hit 'play'. She cranked the knob of the speaker to the highest volume. She didn't have to worry about the people in her house waking up because of the noise, since everyone knew that the Holts were famous for being loud snorers. Even a stomping elephant couldn't probably wake them up in this time of day. Dan and Nellie weren't in a particularly better situation themselves.

Hesitantly, Reagan sang along to the song. At first, it was just whispered words. But when the song reached its chorus, Reagan was already jumping up and down her bed and singing loudly, using a baseball bat as her "microphone". Every time the song would end, she would just go to the iPod and click 'Replay' so as to listen to the music again. With each passing minute, she became more confident and confident. She even tried putting together outfits and trying it on herself in front of the mirror – outfits that she wouldn't _dare_ wear outside. But after trying on the cheerleader outfit, she just stuck to her old tee-shirt and pajama look, concluding that it suited her best. So she resumed dancing and having fun. She was having the time of her life!

Woken up by all the noise, Amy, in her dressing robe, stumbled to Dan's room, thinking that Dan was responsible. Reagan had forgotten that she was a light sleeper. Amy was just about to yell her head off until Dan's ears start to hurt, when she heard Dan snoring through his door. Pressing her ears closer to the door, she became certain that it was Reagan's voice that she heard, not Dan's. And . . . she's singing? _'No, that can't be true,'_ thought Amy. _'Holts don't sing. That's a fact of life.'_ But, rather curiously, she opened the door. And she couldn't believe her ears. Reagan _was_ singing. Amy was pretty sure of that now, even if her voice was a little muffled because of the curtains. But what really disturbed her most was that she was singing along to _a Taylor Swift song_, nonetheless. Slowly, she walked to the curtains and took a little peek. Then she couldn't believe her eyes, either.

With a smile on her face, and maybe a little smirk, she sat on Dan's bed and nudged him. Nothing happened. Irritated, she shook his whole body. Still, nothing happened. The smile disappeared and was replaced by a frown. Then she smiled again. She had an idea. She leaned a little on him and whispered in his ear, _'Hey, I burned all your Ninja Gaiden video games.'_

That did the trick. Dan was already up, and screaming. But Amy had expected that. Before he even uttered a squeak, her hand was already covering his mouth. She giggled. When Dan realized that his sister was just kidding him, he rolled his eyes and tried to go back to sleep. But Amy wouldn't allow that. She yanked on his arm and forced him to stay upright. Dan let out a yelp of pain.

"What's the matter with you?" Dan said, rubbing his arm, an indescribable expression of agony etched on his face.

"Sorry." Amy gave an apologetic shrug.

That was when Dan registered what was happening. His eyes drifted to the closed curtains to his right. "Is that – " he started.

"Reagan?" Amy smirked. "Yeah, that's her. Unbelievable, isn't it?"

Dan nodded. Then he had a brilliant idea. Amy, getting her cue, stood up and left her brother's room, closing the door quietly behind her.

Dan got up as well and headed to his drawer. He took out his video camera, the one that his father, Fiske, gave him for his thirteenth birthday. Then he tiptoed to his bed, took off his slippers, and pulled the purple curtains – just a bit. He positioned his camera on one of the metal grills and hit 'record'. He recorded all of Reagan's silly dance moves on his camera. And then he sneezed. That caught Reagan's attention. She glanced around, looking for the source of the noise, then flushed beet red when she laid her eyes on Dan's camera.

Dan hit 'stop'.

_'Uh-oh,'_ Dan thought. Now Reagan was charging towards him like a bull, whose foot had been stepped on. Dan backed a little on his bed. And a little. And a little. When Reagan reached the window, she couldn't reach him no matter how hard she tried.

"Give me that video cam now, Daniel Arthur Cahill," Reagan said menacingly, her cheeks blushing pink. "Or else."

"Or else what?" Dan challenged.

When Reagan didn't reply, Dan stuck out his tongue at her. He decided to tease her a little further. He pressed 'rewind' on his camera, making sure that Reagan could see the screen as well. Then he hit 'play'. He turned up the volume. On the screen showed Reagan doing hair flips and splits and using a broom as an electric guitar to the tune of a song sung by Taylor Swift. There was only one emotion on Reagan's face as she watched herself – embarrassment. And the worst part was that Dan was _laughing_ at her humiliation.

Enraged, she screamed, "GIVE ME THAT!"

"Nuh-uh," Dan replied, shaking his head playfully.

Reagan was becoming desperate. "Erase that video, Dan! Please!" she cried. "I'll do anything you want!"

"Anything?" Dan raised an eyebrow. This was the perfect chance to get back on Reagan for the time she uploaded that photo of him and his friend James in an awkward position on Facebook. That wasn't even his fault! A bully just pushed him from behind and he fell on top of poor James. And because Reagan posted it on Facebook, the whole school knew about it! It was the most embarrassing thing in his life! And that was why he needed to rack his brain for a good payback idea. Then it hit him. There was one thing in this world that Reagan would rather die than do. And Dan knew what it is.

"Are you sure you would do _anything_ I want?" Dan repeated, his eyes gleaming.

"Uh . . . yeah." Now Reagan was uncertain. The look on Dan's face made her nervous. "Sure."

"Are you sure . . . ?" Dan probed.

"Just get on with it!"

"Okay." Dan shrugged. "Kiss a guy."

Reagan was taken aback. That was the least thing that she expected to come out from Dan's mouth.

"What? Can't kiss a guy?" Dan grinned.

"Umm . . . which guy?"

"I dunno. Me?"

Reagan's face became redder than ever, if that was even possible. "Eww!" she exclaimed. "You have cooties!"

Now it was Dan's turn to be surprised. "Cooties?" he said. "Is that what you have to say? Come on, Reagan! You're better than that! Can't you think of a better comeback?" Dan sighed. He went closer to the window. "Come on, let's get it over with." He gestured to his cheek and closed his eyes.

Then he waited. He waited for the sound of a slap echoing throughout the room and the sting of Reagan's hand on his cheek, which always followed after he joked like this with Reagan. But it never happened. Cautiously, he opened his eyes. Out of the corner of his area of vision, he saw Reagan, with her eyes closed, gently moving toward him at a slow pace. That's when he realized that she was _really_ going to kiss him.

Dan panicked. "No, wait, Reagan. You're really gonna – " He turned to face her abruptly. And when he did, his lips collided with hers. He was too shocked to be able to break away quickly.

And that's when a camera flash illuminated Reagan's room.

Surprised and a little bit guilty, Reagan jumped off her bed – and landed on the floor.

"Now, what do we have here?"

Reagan, at her current position on the floor, could clearly see her brother, Hamilton, leaning over her, one brawny hand holding his cell phone, a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. His tongue clicked playfully inside his mouth. And his eyes held nothing but amusement.

Reagan sent him an icy glare. "What are you doing in _my_ room, Ham?"

"Well, I just happened to be getting a glass of water when I heard voices in your room, even though you're _supposed_ to be asleep. So I got curious and looked inside your room. Imagine my surprise when I saw you and Dan smooching the night away," Hamilton calmly replied, but his calm demeanor was soon ruined, when he realized that he can't hold the full-out grin that spread across his face anymore. "So I just can't resist taking a picture." He showed her a photo of Dan and her, kissing through the metal window.

Reagan quickly got up and punched Hamilton in the guts. He stuck his tongue out at her. Then he winked. He actually _winked_.

That did it. Reagan lunged at him and tried to snatch his cell phone. But Hamilton was faster than her. And bigger. And stronger. She hated that. She exhausted her strength soon enough.

Hamilton gave a final wink at Reagan and Dan before he left his little sister's room. "I'll be keeping this picture with me for safekeeping!" he called out to them.

When his brother left, Reagan redirected her glare to Dan. "This is your entire fault!" she shouted. "Now Hamilton has blackmail over me!"

"Hey!" Dan defended. "How is this _my_ fault? _You_ kissed _me_!"

This seemed to make Reagan even angrier. "_You_ told me to do it!"

Dan threw his hands up in the air. "I was just kidding!" he said. "In fact, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't too eager to kiss me!"

Reagan was too dumbstruck and embarrassed to reply, let alone find a good comeback. She just concentrated all her energy into the glare she was giving Dan.

It seemed to be working. Dan was shrinking, due to the intensity of her glare. "Okay, chill. Besides, it was just a kiss. No biggie."

That was when Reagan erupted. "NO BIGGIE?" she screamed.

Dan took a step backward. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a sec." Reagan relaxed a little. "You mean _that_ was your first kiss?"

"Yeah, duh," Reagan murmured.

"I-I'm sorry." Dan sounded sincere.

Reagan tried to gain her composure back. "Okay, fine. Whatever," she said. "Now delete the video."

"What video?" Dan replied dumbly.

Reagan rolled her eyes. She pointed to the video camera in his hand. "_That_ video."

Dan's eyes lit up. "Oh," he said. "_this_ video." He paused for a moment. "Nope." He grinned.

"WHAT?" came Reagan's reply.

"Like Hamilton said, 'I'm keeping this for safekeeping,'" Dan said, with a wink.

"But – "

Dan pulled back the curtains and threw his head back into the fluffy pillows. "_Good night_, Reagan!" he called out.

Reagan sighed.

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**LITTLE LOBSTER'S PORTION:**

**So . . . did you like it? Have you imagined what the two rooms are supposed to look like? Well, if not, here's an idea: Imagine the two rooms in the Swift's music video. It's TWO houses with TWO windows, right? Well, in this particular story, it's just ONE house, with TWO apartments. And that two apartments are separated with a wall. Just one wall. And, in Dan and Reagan's wall, they made a hole in their wall, so as to make room for a window.**

**Get it now?**

**Okay. Well . . . that's it. Thanks for reading.**

**Jai jien!**

**~~* Little Lobster *~~**


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